Sound of Madness
by DarthAbby
Summary: F* Yeah Sam/Lucifer fanwork exchange for July 2014. Prompts: kid au and Lucifer still in Sam's vessel. Non-romantic. 2,225 words. K plus for creepiness and freakiness. Oneshot.


**Title: Sound of Madness  
Author: DarthAbby (thesassiestsamwinchester on tumblr)  
Prompter: tardisclue on tumblr  
Prompt(s): (2) kid au, (3) Sam never jumps in the cage but still shares his vessel with Lucifer  
Content to avoid: mpreg**

**A strange mashup of the two prompts that came to me around midnight. Hope you like it!**

**I own absolutely nothing but this odd little idea.**

**Writing Playlist:  
****Sound of Madness – Shinedown  
Love the Way You Lie – Skylar Grey  
You're Going Down – Sick Puppies  
Broken Crown – Mumford & Sons  
Come Away to the Water – Maroon 5  
Gods and Monsters – Lana Del Rey  
I Fink U Freeky – Die Antwoord  
Glad You Came – The Wanted  
Sympathy for the Devil – Rolling Stones  
Everything is Ending – Chameleon Circuit  
This Addiction – Alkaline Trio**

**000**

_I created the sound of madness,  
Wrote the book on pain,  
Somehow I'm still here to explain  
That the darkest hour  
Never comes in the night.  
You can sleep with a gun,  
But you gonna wake up  
And fight…for yourself?_

'_Sound of Madness', Shinedown_

000

Little Sammy Winchester was four the first time.

He was playing with some of his older brother's toy cars (taken from Dean's room when the eight year old wasn't paying attention). He was reaching for the little blue truck when it seemed to fly into his hand of its own accord. Sammy stared at it for a moment, a little confused, but that wonderful natural tendency of children to accept most everything kicked in and he began to play with the truck as though nothing strange had happened.

A few whispered words teased the back of his mind, concepts and ideas too complex for a toddler to understand, but weaving into his subconscious to be saved for a day when he knew what they meant.

000

Not-quite-as-little Sammy Winchester was seven when it happened again.

It was nearing the end of his first grade year, and recess was indoors due to the heavy rain outside. Sammy usually didn't mind playing inside, but that day he felt an unexplainable urge to get out and _move_. He felt cramped, trapped, and nothing could hold his attention for more than a minute or two at a time. He got up from the table where other kids were coloring with a scowl, moving over to the window to stare out unhappily at the rain.

"Sammy?" the teacher walked over to the boy when she noticed him standing on his own. "Is something wrong?"

"I wanna go outside," he grumbled.

The teacher held back a sigh. She had been hearing that a lot today, especially from the more active children like Sammy. "I know, but we can't have you getting sick because of how cold and wet it is, can we? Then you would miss out on playing kickball in gym tomorrow!"

The false cheeriness in her words grated on Sammy's nerves, though he himself couldn't pinpoint the reason why he was growing more upset.

"But I wanna get out_ now_!"

The teacher almost labeled his tone as _'whining_', and was set to gently remind him that first graders don't whine, but there was something…_darker_ underneath, something that made her feel, just for a moment, as though the child in front of her was not to be crossed. Torn between reprimand and the urge to step away from the boy, she didn't notice the small crack that appeared in the window where Sammy was glaring at it.

000

Sam don't-call-me-Sammy-Dean! Winchester was eleven the next time.

It was Christmas break of Sam's fifth grade year, and both Winchester boys had been invited to a massive snowball fight down the street. Dean, at fifteen, was one of the oldest there, and so had been named one of three team captains. However, Sam had quickly been picked for a different team – the other two captains had seen the wiry younger boy play in previous games, knew his aim was almost impeccable and his distance was surprisingly long for someone so young, making him a valuable asset. He had been hoping to end up on Dean's team, but it certainly wasn't the end of the world.

A small, growly voice in the back of Sam's mind hissed _'yet'_, but he paid it no mind. Just his competitive side making everything seem more dramatic, right?

The first twenty minutes were spent building forts and stockpiling snowballs, but when time was called, it was largely a free-for-all. Sam stayed near his team's fort, popping up every few minutes to chuck a few snowballs at opponents who had rushed into the clearing between the forts. Everything was going smoothly for a short while – the air was filled with laughter, flying snow, and surprised yelps as people got hit in the face.

But then, Sam's captain, a stocky boy of sixteen named Eric, decided to lead a small charge on Dean's fort. The eleven year old was roped into the mission with reluctance, preferring his hit-and-hide method, but didn't complain.

When Dean figured out what was happening, though, he led a charge of his own to meet Eric's team midway, and was tackled into a large drift by the other captain. Sam looked away for a few precious moments in order to throw a snowball into the face of an oncoming opponent, and when he glanced back at the captains, Eric had Dean's face pressed into the snow. His brother's limbs were flailing as he desperately tried to free himself, but the sophomore was just laughing at the freshman's attempts.

Sam saw red as he processed the scene. Dean was in _trouble_, someone was _hurting him_, and Sam was just _standing there._

Afterwards, Sam claimed he didn't remember what had happened, and he wasn't invited to anymore snowball fights. Dean was only rarely invited himself – everyone was scared that if Dean was shoved too roughly or similar, then his little brother would show up the next day to give _them_ a pair of black eyes and a busted lip, too. None of the boys could really come up for a good explanation why, though. By all accounts, Eric should have been able to brush Sam off like a fly – he had about a hundred pounds and at least eight inches on the kid. But Sam had been the one to walk away unscathed.

The other kids quietly all decided to stay out of the younger Winchester's way, while he himself tried to ignore the feeling of righteousness that had come over him when taking care of Eric.

000

Sam Winchester was fourteen the last time.

He was only a few weeks into his freshman year of high school, but his reputation proceeded him. On his first day, even the seniors knew not to mess with the scrawny, shaggy haired boy. Every sophomore, junior, and senior had mental lists to sort the freshmen into. Some of them shouldn't be messed with because of intimidating older siblings, some of them were actually pretty cool, and some of them went out of their way to avoid trouble. But Sam had forced them to make a new list: _Kid who can Kick Ass and so can his Older Brother: Stay Away!_

Dean was a senior, which would normally mean he avoided his brother like the plague at school, but the Winchester boys had never been exactly normal. Dean had always been protective of his brother, even more so after the Snowball Fight Incident. He felt that he had to keep an eye on Sam – not because of what the boy could do, but because of what others might do to him. And the easiest way to do that in Dean's mind was to sign up for the same electives.

They were in woodshop, working on small tables with a built-in checkerboard on the top. Sam was humming quietly – he had a song stuck in his head, but he couldn't quite remember the lyrics. He thought it might be by the Rolling Stones.

The girl next to him made a frustrated noise as the ruler she was trying to measure with slipped, causing her to mark the wood incorrectly for the fifth time. "Will you _stop it_?" she snapped.

"What?"

"That humming! It's driving me nuts!"

"Oh." Sam blinked at her slowly, a little surprised. None of the other students ever really got mad at him anyore. "Sorry."

He was quiet for a few moments before starting to hum again. He didn't even realize he was doing it this time, but the girl had had quite enough.

"Hey!" she said harshly, glaring at him. "I asked you to stop that!"

Sam scowled at her. "Maybe if you asked _nicely_…"

"_Fine._ Will you _please_ stop the damn _humming_?"

Sam glared at her mocking tone for a long minute before turning back to his own work and purposefully resuming humming this time. He hear her chair scrape as she stood to walk around the table towards him and snapped his head up to fix her with a dark glare.

She froze in place, but not, apparently, of her own accord. "H-hey! What are you doing?" she asked, anger ebbing out her voice to be replaced by a hint of fear. "Let me go!"

Sam's brow furrowed. He wasn't doing anything to her…right? But she was acting like her feet and hands were glued to the floor and table, rendering her near motionless.

"How are you doing that?" she demanded. "Stop it! Let me _go_!"

'_Why?'_ a gravelly voice in the back of Sam's head spoke up with an almost bored tone. '_What has __she__ ever done but annoy us?'_ There was a swooping sensation in Sam's stomach, like he had gone over a big hill on a rollercoaster, both sickening and exhilarating. _'What have __any__ of them ever done for us?'_

Sam nodded his head in silent agreement with the voice. The only one who ever helped him anymore was Dean. A prickle of anger ran through him as he thought his brother's name.

'_No!'_ the voice snapped. _'We don't need anybody, especially not __him__! He thinks that just because he's older, he needs to protect us, that we don't know anything! He's __WRONG__!'_

But…Dean was his brother, his best friend…

'_He thinks he's above us!'_ the voice raged. _'He thinks he's superior, always listening to Father with obedience, trying to be the definition of loyal son, when Father has a new favorite, over him, over me, over the rest of them! But they are so beneath us, beneath __me__, how could Father abandon me for those muddy little sacks of meat?'_ Sam wasn't sure of most of what the voice was saying, but it's anger was infectious, and he felt the rage building within him. _'I was the brightest of them all and He cast me out like a common thief! I was only trying to prove the fatal flaw in His new design and they saw me as a criminal!'_

The girl had fallen silent, struck dumb by the burning light slowly filling Sam's eyes, his fists clenched tightly on the table top, knuckles white.

The voice was still ranting in Sam's mind when Dean noticed his brother's tense shoulders from two tables away. "Sam?" he asked, walking over. "Sam, you okay?" He placed a hand on the younger's shoulder.

The contact broke something in Sam. He jumped up, pushing his brother away, seething. The rest of the room had finally caught up to the situation and had fallen silent, everyone watching the two Winchesters cautiously.

"Sam…?"

"I'm sorry," the voice that came out of the freshman didn't quite match what Dean was used to – the pitch a bit deeper, the tone snappier, and it sounded like he had been gargling gravel. "Sam's unavailable at the moment. Please leave a message after the screams."

"_What_?"

The thing in Sam just smiled and waved a hand casually, as though swatting a fly. Everyone except himself and Dean were forced backwards, pinned to the walls by an invisible force. They were screaming, but Dean couldn't hear them.

"It has been a _long_ wait, brother, but _oh. So. Worth it._" Sam took a step closer, and Dean moved back.

"What the hell did you do with my brother?" he demanded.

"Me? Nothing. Just gave him a few, ah, nudges in the right direction." He grinned predatorily. "Or the wrong, depending on your view." Another step closer. "Now, you might not be Michael, but this'll make a nice practice run."

"Michael? Who the hell is Michael? Who the hell are _you_?"

He chuckled, a rumbling, growling, unpleasant noise. "Pleased to meet you, hope you guessed my name," he sang softly, advancing on Dean, who continued to back away. "But what's confusing you is the just the nature of my game." Dean tossed a block of wood at Sam, but it was dodged easily. "Just as every cop is a criminal, and all the sinner's, saints."

Dean ran into the wall, no place left to go, and Sam was still coming closer.

"As heads is tails, just call me Lucifer," Sam grinned wolfishly again. "_'cause I'm in need of some restraint_."

**000**

**Weird, slightly creepy ending to a weird, slightly creepy oneshot. Hope I've filled the prompt well enough!**

**Song at the end, in case anyone was wondering, is 'Sympathy for the Devil' by the Rolling Stones.**


End file.
